let alone an unstable object floating precariously close to a dock full of potential splinters.
“I’m not a little sprite like you,” I tell him, sitting on the edge of the dock.
He snickers. “You think I’m little?” He holds out both his hands, so I can scoot off the dock without causing too much pandemonium in this tiny vessel.
Do I think Reed is little? No freaking way. He’s actually very athletic-looking, a fact accentuated exponentially when he takes his shirt off. He’s not quite as big as Galen, but he is well-defined in all the right places. Which is why I look away.
He doesn’t miss it. “Didn’t think so,” he says.
God, he’s irritatingly confident.
“Now, remember,” he says as I sit on one of the wooden planks posing as seats, “once we get to where we’re going, absolutely no talking. When we get close, I’ll give you a signal that it’s time to be stealthy.”
“What’s the signal?” I hold my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun.
He holds up a fist, a gesture a soldier might make if he wants to halt the troops behind him.
“Okay. Got it.”
Reed zigzags us along the bends of the creek, avoiding fallen logs and overgrown brush from shore. The wind breathes through the trees as if it’s telling secrets. Birds chime in with treble, and a nearby woodpecker adds percussion to the mix. Then there’s the steady, quiet hum of the boat dividing the water ahead of us. It’s possibly one of the most relaxing moments of my life.
Until I notice Reed smirking at me.
“What?” I say.
He shrugs innocently. “I was just trying to imagine you using the Gift in the ocean. And I was getting a little jealous of it.” He gently steers us clear of some drooping tree limbs that hold a masterpiece of a spiderweb. “What’s the biggest fish you’ve ever talked to?”
The answer immediately pops into mind. “A blue whale. I named him Goliath. You’ve never been in the ocean?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Well for starters, it’s against our law. And secondly, didn’t you hear what Triton did to Tartessos? Not pretty.”
No, it wasn’t pretty. I can’t imagine the same thing happening to Neptune. “Understandable.”
“Besides, I’m not trying to get speared by the almighty ocean dwellers.” The way he says it carries a sudden hardness. Like when you get to the pit of a cherry. “You’re friends with a blue whale?” Apparently, Reed can go from smug to incredulous in snap-point-two seconds. “Weren’t you afraid?”
Terrified is a closer description. But I can tell Reed is in awe of me right now, so I decide to sit back and enjoy the moment. “I was at first. It was before I knew I had the Gift. I thought he was going to eat me.”
“Blue whales eat krill. If he ate you, it would have been an accident.”
“Comforting. Truly.”
“So he didn’t eat you. You’re a horrible storyteller, you know that?”
So much for awe. “I realized that he was gentle—and that he responded to my voice when I told him what to do. I knew then that he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“How often do you see him?”
I’m aware that my shoulders sag a little as the regret broils from my stomach to my throat. “Actually, a few months ago he was harpooned by some idiot fishermen. I didn’t see him for a long time after that. Then one day a few weeks ago, he came to me out of nowhere. I could still see the scar, and I gave him some extra love. But I don’t care what scientists say about how fish have no feelings. Goliath acted differently. He wasn’t as playful as he was before that happened. It’s like he was traumatized or something.”
Reed gives a solemn nod. “Um. Whales are mammals. They definitely have feelings. But touchy-feely feelings? Not sure about all that.”
“Well, I’m telling you they do.”
“Right. So. We don’t have to fish if you don’t want to. We can turn around and go back.”
I tilt my head at him. “But you said we weren’t going to
“I’m not a little sprite like you,” I tell him, sitting on the edge of the dock.
He snickers. “You think I’m little?” He holds out both his hands, so I can scoot off the dock without causing too much pandemonium in this tiny vessel.
Do I think Reed is little? No freaking way. He’s actually very athletic-looking, a fact accentuated exponentially when he takes his shirt off. He’s not quite as big as Galen, but he is well-defined in all the right places. Which is why I look away.
He doesn’t miss it. “Didn’t think so,” he says.
God, he’s irritatingly confident.
“Now, remember,” he says as I sit on one of the wooden planks posing as seats, “once we get to where we’re going, absolutely no talking. When we get close, I’ll give you a signal that it’s time to be stealthy.”
“What’s the signal?” I hold my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun.
He holds up a fist, a gesture a soldier might make if he wants to halt the troops behind him.
“Okay. Got it.”
Reed zigzags us along the bends of the creek, avoiding fallen logs and overgrown brush from shore. The wind breathes through the trees as if it’s telling secrets. Birds chime in with treble, and a nearby woodpecker adds percussion to the mix. Then there’s the steady, quiet hum of the boat dividing the water ahead of us. It’s possibly one of the most relaxing moments of my life.
Until I notice Reed smirking at me.
“What?” I say.
He shrugs innocently. “I was just trying to imagine you using the Gift in the ocean. And I was getting a little jealous of it.” He gently steers us clear of some drooping tree limbs that hold a masterpiece of a spiderweb. “What’s the biggest fish you’ve ever talked to?”
The answer immediately pops into mind. “A blue whale. I named him Goliath. You’ve never been in the ocean?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Well for starters, it’s against our law. And secondly, didn’t you hear what Triton did to Tartessos? Not pretty.”
No, it wasn’t pretty. I can’t imagine the same thing happening to Neptune. “Understandable.”
“Besides, I’m not trying to get speared by the almighty ocean dwellers.” The way he says it carries a sudden hardness. Like when you get to the pit of a cherry. “You’re friends with a blue whale?” Apparently, Reed can go from smug to incredulous in snap-point-two seconds. “Weren’t you afraid?”
Terrified is a closer description. But I can tell Reed is in awe of me right now, so I decide to sit back and enjoy the moment. “I was at first. It was before I knew I had the Gift. I thought he was going to eat me.”
“Blue whales eat krill. If he ate you, it would have been an accident.”
“Comforting. Truly.”
“So he didn’t eat you. You’re a horrible storyteller, you know that?”
So much for awe. “I realized that he was gentle—and that he responded to my voice when I told him what to do. I knew then that he wouldn’t hurt me.”
“How often do you see him?”
I’m aware that my shoulders sag a little as the regret broils from my stomach to my throat. “Actually, a few months ago he was harpooned by some idiot fishermen. I didn’t see him for a long time after that. Then one day a few weeks ago, he came to me out of nowhere. I could still see the scar, and I gave him some extra love. But I don’t care what scientists say about how fish have no feelings. Goliath acted differently. He wasn’t as playful as he was before that happened. It’s like he was traumatized or something.”
Reed gives a solemn nod. “Um. Whales are mammals. They definitely have feelings. But touchy-feely feelings? Not sure about all that.”
“Well, I’m telling you they do.”
“Right. So. We don’t have to fish if you don’t want to. We can turn around and go back.”
I tilt my head at him. “But you said we weren’t going to
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